


We Owe It to Ourselves

by cold_nights_summer_days



Series: You Don't Have to Worry Anymore (on hiatus) [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, He Is Very Much Alive, NOT STARKER - Freeform, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Tony Stark Centric, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Is Not Dead, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, also, at the end, because thats how we roll in this house, cuddles at the end, kind of, like so hard, sorry guys its angsty like the last one but everyone is okay, tony stark calls peter parker bambino because i live for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 22:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18822475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cold_nights_summer_days/pseuds/cold_nights_summer_days
Summary: This is a follow up to the fic "Before? maybe. But now? not so much." so I suggest reading that one first because that is the basis for this fix-it series!----Tony Stark has a nightmare, but its okay because Peter is there when he needs him.----





	We Owe It to Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bucket_1917](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bucket_1917/gifts).



> Hi! Sorry this is a day later than I hoped it would be, but to make up for it I wrote almost 900 words more than before! This is not heavily edited, so if you find any errors, please be sure to let me know so I can have them fixed as soon as possible. Also, constructive criticism is extremely welcome; I am always looking for ways to improve my writing. 
> 
> Special thanks to @Bucket_1917 for reading this before I post it; she cried the first time and while I feel bad for making her sad, as a writer its exciting to know you are not as bad at writing emotions as you previously thought!
> 
> If there is something you would like to see in this series, be sure to tell me! I don't know what I want to write next, but school is ending so I'll have plenty of time to work on this project.
> 
> Enjoy.

“No, no, no. I’ve got you—Peter—I’ve got you,” Tony whispered, trying to sound strong though he felt like he was falling apart. Tony repeated the phrase and wondered if the kid could even hear him over his own desperate pleading. The billionaire tightened his grip on Peter, praying to every higher being he could think of that if he held tight enough, Peter would stop dying. Praying that if he held tight enough, he could keep Peter from falling apart. 

Instead he could only watch as Peter slowly turned to dust, begging to be saved. 

Tony looked at his hand as it shook, at the ash sticking to his bloodstained fingers. When he couldn’t stand to look anymore at the ash that was his kid. Tony shut his eyes against the pain. A flash of a thought, a stupid one, at that, said that when he opened his eyes he would realize this was a dream. Peter would still be standing there, talking to Star-Lord about hit movies from the eighties. But when he opened them, Peter was still gone and the Guardians were still gone and he was still there on that desolate broken planet, alone. Well, not completely alone. Nebula was there: but she was a stranger. 

_We lost_. Tony thought. _We failed_. His throat ached with sorrow while his eyes burned with unshed tears. They had tried their best; fought their best. And for what? They barely scratched Thanos before he was off on his merry way, gallivanting through a portal to destroy the remaining Avengers on Earth. The words ‘No more surprises’ flitted through his brain. They only made his chest ache more. Had Pepper even survived? Happy? Rhodey?

He looked up to see Nebula’s outstretched hand ready to help him stand. Tony grabbed her hand, but when he tried to stand, the world faded away. 

Just as Peter had done.  
\----------------------------------  
_He’s gone._

__

__

_He’s gone._

_I failed._

Those seemed to be the only thoughts Tony was capable of thinking. The heart rate monitor beside his bed beeped frantically, no doubt alerting the extensive medical team on call. 

_He’s gone._

__

_He’s gone._

__

__

_I failed._

__

__

Tony’s chest was tight with guilt. This time the tears flowed freely, his pillowcase soaked through before he spared a glance around at his surroundings. Confusion flooded his system. He wasn’t on Titan, or the Benatar, but he wasn’t home either. He was in a semi-dark room (the word ‘medbay’ floated to the forefront of his mind) with an alarming number of beeping machines. He was hooked up to every one of these beeping machines, too, and that thought made his skin crawl. It made him feel stuck. 

Where was Peter? He wasn’t in the medbay with Tony: Tony was alone. Before his mind spiraled too far into insanity, Tony forced himself to slow down and remember. To think about something useful instead of the way it felt when Peter was slipping from his grasp. 

He turned the word ‘medbay’ around in his mind. Medbay, medbay, medbay. He was in the medbay. . . recovering. Recovering from the final battle with Thanos. He had seen Peter there, which meant he was alive. He was back. In fact, he was in his room at the other side of the compound right now. Still, Tony wanted to know he was okay. 

“Hey, FRI?” Tony asked, voice shaky and small. 

“Yes, Boss?” FRIDAY responded, the AI’s familiar Irish accent soothing. Tony hesitated a few moments before asking question. Was he being paranoid? Probably. 

“Is—is Peter okay?” 

“Yes, Boss. Peter is asleep in his room. Shall I wake him for you?” Tony let out a deep sigh. He didn’t want to wake the kid, lord knew he barely slept before he had died and come back to life, but he did want to see him. 

“No, let him sleep. Ill just ask him to come by tomorrow,” Tony said finally. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t need to see Peter to know that it was okay. Tony trusted FRIDAY, he had coded her after all, and knew she wouldn’t lie to him. Regardless, he still found it impossible to relax. He tried, for the record, to force his taut muscles to relax. But like most things, you couldn’t force yourself to relax. It defeated the purpose. 

After about ten minutes of tossing and turning, Tony muttered a quick, “Oh, fuck it.” And began to pull out the various tubes and wires he was connected to. At first, he was being careful, but that was taking too long. He wasn’t going to be able to rest until he made sure Peter was okay. He could still hear the kid’s voice as he begged not to go. 

_Sir, please, please I don’t wanna go._

Could still see his eyes, filled with tears from the pain of being ripped apart.

 _I’m sorry._

Tony never did figure out why the kid apologized, not until years later when he thought back to the ferry incident. _“And if you die, I feel like that’s on me,”_ After that, Tony felt worse. Because then it meant that Peter was apologizing for something that was out of his control. He was apologizing for Tony’s failure, for his own death. 

Tony’s feet carried him to the other side of the compound, past the cavernous lobby and into the living quarters. His heart sunk as he thought about the empty rooms; Clint had gone back to his farm and Natasha with him, Vision was dead, Rhodey was gone on government clean up business, Thor left with the Guardians, and his own family was in upstate New York. They would be joining them soon enough, once the doctors gave the okay. Peter’s aunt was still MIA and would be staying with Tony until they found her. 

The cold hardwood felt good against his bare feet. It grounded him, pulling him back to Earth instead of letting him drift away in Titan’s low gravity atmosphere. When he reached Peter’s door, he pushed it open slowly. A small sliver of light illuminated Peter’s bedroom. Not enough to wake the light sleeper, but just enough for Tony to see that he was, in fact, there. 

Peter’s room looked barely lived in. There was no sign of the kid’s usual science books on his desk and the constant residue ring on his nightstand from the glass of water he always kept there had long since been cleaned away. Even the closet was empty; when Tony had come back without him May asked to have all his belongings back. That was the last time the pair had spoken before she dropped off the face of the Earth. 

A lot of people had done that: leave the half-dead cities for the countryside. It was easier to live without a constant reminder of what used to be.  
Tony hovered by the doorway, trying to bring his heart rate down and slow his breathing. Tony was honestly surprised Peter didn’t wake up when he opened the door. Peter said that he was a light sleeper ever since the bite. Chest and throat still tight, Tony focused on Peter. 

_Peter’s okay. He’s here. He’s okay._

His head was buried deep in his pillow, like he was trying to burrow into the mattress. Curls as unruly as ever, a positively tousled mess.

_Peter’s okay. He’s here. He’s okay._

He slept close enough to the edge of the bed that one wrong movement would send him tumbling to the plush carpet of his bedroom.

_Peter’s okay. He’s here. He’s okay._

He was so peaceful. So still. 

Too still. Tony couldn’t tell if Peter was breathing or not. Just like that, Tony flew into panic mode again. 

“Kid?” Tony asked. No reply. With a normal teenager, this would have been considered normal. But Peter wasn’t normal. He was an enhanced teenager with a tendency to sleep extremely lightly. Tony pushed away from the door frame with his shoulder, closing the gap between him and Peter quickly. 

“Peter?” Tony tried again, kneeling beside the bed and shaking the teenager’s shoulder harshly. 

“Mis’sr S’ark, what time is it?” Peter asked, voice thick. He tried to blink the sleep from his eyes, looking like a tiny kitten trying to open its eyes for the first time. If Tony wasn’t so worried, he might have found it cute. 

“Its late, kid, just go back to sleep.” Tony sighed. He felt bad for waking him, but he looked _so still_. However, his guilt over waking him up didn’t outweigh his relief. Instead of going back to sleep like he was told, Peter sat up and scooted back until he was propped up on the headboard. 

“Did something happen?”

“No—I was just checking on you.” Tony didn’t want to worry Peter—he already had enough on his plate with coming back to life after five years and his missing aunt—but the kid saw straight through him. 

“You had a nightmare.” Peter said bluntly. It wasn’t a question. Tony didn’t know what to say. He opted for silence instead. 

“It’s okay. I get them too. It’ll help to talk about it, though,”

Tony didn’t want to talk about it. He would rather forget it ever happened. But if years of therapy had only taught him one thing, it was that bottling things up only made them worse. The hardest part about this whole situation was that Tony didn’t know how to handle talking to the kid about _his own death_. It was difficult, and it took some time, but he managed to get the words out around the lump in his throat.

By the time he was finished, Peter had moved to the other side of the bed to give Tony room to sit. They sat in silence for a few moments, Peter being the one to break it first. 

“I’m back now, and so is everyone else. You don’t have to worry about us anymore,” Peter said, leaning his head further into Tony’s side as he pulled the covers up further. Tony sighed.

“I’ll never not worry about you, Peter. Or Morgan, or Pepper. Or anyone else. I’ve been worrying for nearly fifteen years. And now that I know what I stand to lose, it’s hard not to.” 

“Yeah, but we have to try, don’t we? I think you owe it to yourself. To try and live in peace, for real this time. No homicidal maniacs, no crazy aliens, no infinity stones. Just you, Pepper, and Morgan.”

“And you,” Tony reminded Peter. Despite everything, Peter still excluded himself from things like this. It almost broke Tony’s heart. 

“You, Pepper, Morgan, and me,” Peter amended. Tony noticed that the kid’s eyes were beginning to droop, so he decided they could table this conversation for another time. He had FRIDAY dim the lights in the hall so they didn’t bother Peter (he didn’t feel like getting up to close the door, and anyways, what was the point when you had your own AI?) and pressed a light kiss to Peter’s head. 

“Good night, il mio cuore,” He whispered. Sure, when he woke up in the morning everything would hurt like hell, but that was okay. He wouldn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, don't forget to check out the rest of the series! Follow me on Instagram (cold.nights.summer.days) for updates on this project as well as others that I am working on. And if you want to scream with me about marvel, follow me on Tumblr (strmrider)!


End file.
